


Mars War 2119

by RogueTranslator



Series: All I Want for Christmas Is You [1]
Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, McDean, Pining, Romance, Sexual Tension, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueTranslator/pseuds/RogueTranslator
Summary: John Paul and Craig exchange gifts on Christmas Day, but a misunderstanding threatens their friendship.This takes place on 25 December 2006. It refers to events from the Christmas Day episode (which aired on 27 December 2006).I started out wanting to write a one shot following Craig and John Paul over several Christmases, but--predictably--each narrative sprawled out, so I've decided to divide them. This is part one of a Christmas series.
Relationships: Craig Dean/John Paul McQueen
Series: All I Want for Christmas Is You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571545
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	Mars War 2119

John Paul stepped forward and raised his hand to knock at Craig’s half-open bedroom door, but froze before his fingers hit the wood. Craig was standing next to his bed, his back turned to John Paul, clad only in a pair of snug grey boxer briefs. He bent over and picked up a white vest from the floor, sniffed it, and started putting it on. John Paul gulped and cleared his throat.

“Oh, alright, mate?” Craig glanced back at him through the crack in the door. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah—yeah, I’m alright,” John Paul replied, closing his mouth. “Your—I mean, I saw your mum downstairs and she said I could come up. Then I saw your door open and—well, I didn’t mean to surprise you—"

Craig turned around and quirked an eyebrow. John Paul summoned as much willpower as he could muster to stop his eyes from roving down Craig’s body.

“You’re sure you’re alright? You seem a bit flustered.”

John Paul pressed his lips together and nodded.

“It’s not Hannah, is it? Because you seemed pretty sure about dumping her the other day.” Craig turned away from him again and leaned over the bed to search through a pile of clothes. The tight grey cotton of his trunks stretched and strained over his bum as he picked through the laundry. John Paul swallowed his saliva again and leaned against the doorframe.

“Hannah? No, no, it’s not Hannah.”

“Then what is it?” Craig picked up a pair of slate-coloured jeans and started untangling the legs. “I can tell something’s up, mate.” He pulled on his jeans and looked over his shoulder for John Paul’s response.

“It’s—well, I didn’t want to tell you this, but we got robbed.”

Craig dropped his hands and spun around, his zipper still undone. “What?”

“Yeah, the presents, the food, the booze, the lot. All gone.” John Paul nodded at Craig’s incredulous expression. He didn’t like lying, and the truth was that he was more shaken up by the sight of Craig’s half-naked body than his deadbeat father having nicked their Christmas, but it wasn’t like that was a thing people went around saying.

“Mate, that’s terrible.” Craig walked up to him and rubbed his shoulder. John Paul smiled wanly, breathing in the smell of body wash from Craig’s recent shower. “When did it happen? You never said.”

“Just the other day, when all of us were here at The Dog.”

Craig zipped up his jeans and fastened his belt. “Any idea who might have done it?”

“Oh, we know who did it.”

“Do you? Well, haven’t the police caught the dirtbag yet, then?”

“Not exactly.” John Paul sighed. “It was my dad.”

“Your—” Craig’s head popped through the collar of his red T-shirt. “Come again? Your old man did it?”

“He’s always been a waste of space. It’s not as surprising as it sounds.”

“That’s mental, mate.” Craig paused to watch John Paul’s reaction. “I’m really sorry. Believe me, I know all about worthless dads.” He pushed the clothes to the foot of his bed and sat down, then patted beside him on the mattress.

John Paul sat next to him and shrugged. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

“If it makes you feel any better, all my presents this year were complete rubbish. Books, socks, underwear—I mean, who needs any of that?”

John Paul glanced at Craig’s lap. “What, you prefer going commando?”

“Er—” Craig turned to him; John Paul looked up at the corner of the room. “No offense mate, but I don’t think you need to know what’s going on underneath my trousers. I know we’re close and that—”

“Shut up, you idiot,” John Paul said, swatting him with the bag he was carrying, and they both chuckled.

“What’s this, anyway?”

“Oh, I got it for you.” John Paul handed the bag to Craig. “It’s your present. Happy Christmas.”

“You’re joking.”

John Paul looked at him, bewildered. “Why would I be joking?”

“Well, you don’t even have gifts for yourself, and you’ve bought one for me?” Craig crinkled the wrapping tissue at the mouth of the bag and frowned.

“I got it before all that happened. I had it up in my room, so my dad didn’t end up finding it. I guess he didn’t have enough time to clear out our bedrooms. Or space in the lorry, maybe.”

“Mate.” Craig looked down at the bag.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?”

Craig took a breath, then peeled apart the tissue paper and reached in. He pulled out the woven bracelet and dangled it between them in the light from the window.

“John Paul, how did you know that I’ve been looking for more ways to accessorise?”

“Don’t take the mickey,” John Paul said, reaching for the bracelet. Craig yanked it away from him. “If you don’t like it, just tell me.”

Craig laughed. “I’m being serious.” He brought his other hand to the bracelet and spun it through his fingers. “This is exactly my style, honestly. What’s it made of?”

“I don’t know, actually.” John Paul shrugged. “I saw it in one of the shops on Eastgate Street one day and thought of you.”

“I love the pattern.” Craig handed the bracelet to John Paul and lay his forearm on John Paul’s thigh. “I’ll wear it now. Help me get it on?”

“Oh. Sure.” John Paul fumbled with the bracelet and finally managed to unfasten it. Underneath his jeans, the skin of his leg prickled with goose flesh at the heat of Craig’s arm.

“I wonder if Sarah will like it,” Craig mused, as John Paul lifted his hand and brought the bracelet around his wrist.

“No idea. Isn’t the main thing that you like it?”

“Yeah, of course, but—”

“There you go,” John Paul interrupted, as he tied the bracelet and let go of Craig’s hand. “It’s not too tight, is it?”

“Nah, it’s perfect.” Craig held out his arm, admiring it. “Goes with my watch, too.”

“Right,” John Paul said, standing up. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat and pulled it down to cover the front of his jeans. “Shall we head down?”

“Hey!” Craig grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the bed roughly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“S—sorry?”

“Well, don’t you want to see what I’ve got you?” Craig gave him a crooked smile and sprang up. “Stay there; I’ll be right back.”

“Okay—”

Craig ran out of the room. “Don’t move!”

John Paul scratched the back of his head. _Where exactly would I be going?_ He worked his fingers together in his lap and glanced around Craig’s room. His eyes were immediately drawn to Craig’s naff poster of Britney Spears; he’d have to take the piss later.

 _I could teach him so much about music_ , John Paul thought. He stroked his chin and smiled. From the lounge came the sound of drawers being thrown open and Craig’s muttered expletives.

John Paul looked at the basket of dirty clothes next to Craig’s bed. At the top of the pile was an inside-out pair of pyjama bottoms and the pair of white briefs which had been worn with them. John Paul thought about the taut lines of Craig’s nearly-nude body and swallowed the knot in his throat.

“Here we go,” Craig said, as he returned to the bedroom, his hands behind his back. “Merry Christmas, John Paul. Now, I didn’t push the boat out with wrapping it up like you did, but it’s what’s inside that counts, isn’t it?”

John Paul snorted and accepted the present from Craig’s hands. The gift paper was a mess of ripped edges and taped-up corners, and in the middle, the name _Craig_ had been scribbled out, replaced with _John Paul_.

“Mate, are you pawning your unwanted gifts off on me?” John Paul pointed to Craig’s name.

“No, no.” Craig sat down next to him. “I just reused the wrapping paper.”

John Paul laughed. “Charming.”

“Well, I procrastinated with wrapping it up, and just now I couldn’t find where Mum keeps all the gift paper.” Craig elbowed him. “Just open it, you diva.”

“I’m not—” John Paul matched Craig’s grin and pulled at the seams of the paper.

“Well?”

“Oh,” John Paul said, turning the case over in his hands. “ _Mars War 2119_.”

“Yeah. I got you a copy so we can play online together when you’re at your place.” Craig tilted his head at John Paul’s reaction. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d be pleased.”

“No, mate, I am.” John Paul smiled weakly. “I just like coming round to yours to play.”

“Yeah, well now we can play it together, instead of taking turns at my computer.”

John Paul shrugged. “I don’t mind watching you, honestly.”

“Come on, John Paul.” Craig clapped his hand to his back and smiled. “You don’t have to pretend like that’s fun for you. And now you don’t have to come here as much; we can hang out online if one of us doesn’t feel like going out.”

John Paul frowned. “What, don’t you want me to come over?”

“John Paul.” Craig peered at him. “Why are you being like this? Is something wrong?”

“No,” John Paul said, after a beat. He averted his eyes. “I’m being stupid, ignore me.”

Craig laughed and rubbed John Paul’s shoulder. “Have you got it bad or what?”

 _Mars War 2119_ slipped from John Paul’s hand to the bedroom carpet. He turned to Craig, his face flushing with panic.

“What—what do you mean by that?”

“Well, Hannah, obviously. Why even break up with her if it’s going to knock you for this much of a loop?” Craig shook his head, rapped his knuckles to the back of John Paul’s skull. “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t had as much time for you recently. It’s just that me and Sarah only started going out again a week ago, and—I hate to break it to you, mate—but you can’t really compete with her in certain areas, if you catch my meaning.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” He retrieved the game from the floor and leapt up. Craig, John Paul thought, with a mixture of itchy frustration and cool relief, had to be the most oblivious bloke on the face of the planet.

“Yeah. Yeah, alright. Hey, you’re treating her mean. I respect that.”

“Do you mind if I leave this up here until I head home?” John Paul waved the case. “I don’t think a rowdy pub’s the best place for me to be swanning around with it.”

“Yeah, of course.” Craig set it on his bedside table and stood up next to John Paul. “Just come up and grab it when you get off.”

They bumped into each other in the bedroom doorway. Craig held out his hand, yielding to John Paul; John Paul looked down at his arm.

“It looks good on you.” John Paul touched his fingertips to Craig’s wrist and ran his thumb along the bracelet.

Craig took a breath and watched him. The muscles of his forearm twitched; he slid his hand out of John Paul’s and returned it to his side.

“Yeah, you have good taste, mate.”

“We should go down,” John Paul said, after a few seconds. “Carmel’s probably wondering where I am; I promised her a dance.”

Craig tapped at his phone as they walked to the kitchen. “And I’ve just got a text from Sarah saying she’s on her way over.”

“Can I leave my coat as well? It was boiling downstairs when I got here.” John Paul hung his duffel on the hatstand and reached for the door handle. “You coming?”

Craig pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the sink. “The thing is, Mum asked me to do the washing up. I nearly forgot.”

“Alright, I’ll just meet you downstairs, then.”

“Hey, make sure you hold the pool table for us; we don’t want anyone else getting any designs on it.”

John Paul snorted. “You’re the son of the owner. You can kick off anyone you like.”

Craig pulled on the rubber gloves and grinned. “I try not to throw my weight around.”

“Right,” John Paul said, rolling his eyes. “See you in a bit.”

“Won’t be a minute,” Craig replied, and he started running the hot water.

* * *

John Paul swabbed the break in his lip with the pad and winced at the sting. A few specks of dried blood stained the cotton wool.

“Serves me right for lying,” he said, into the mirror.

He glanced to his right at the knock on the door.

“John Paul!” Michaela shouted. “Hurry up, will you? I need to do my hair!”

“Get lost!”

She knocked on the door again. “Your dirty mag’s not as important as me getting to the cinema before the previews, wazzock!”

John Paul sighed and unlocked the door. Michaela stumbled in and stared at the bruise on his cheek and cut on his lip.

“Go on, do your stupid hair.” John Paul returned the surgical spirit to the medicine cabinet and picked up the cotton pad.

“John Paul, what happened?” Michaela grabbed his arm as he brushed past her; he threw her off.

“I was drunk and fell on the pavement.”

“Yeah, and I’m Mariah Carey,” Michaela yelled, as he walked down the hallway.

John Paul closed his bedroom door behind him and exhaled. He flopped onto his bed and flicked on the lamp, then reached into his pocket for his mobile.

_Sorry mate. I should have kept my gob shut._

John Paul sent the text and fell back into his pillow. He thought about getting up to start some music on his record player, but his phone vibrated before he’d made up his mind. John Paul sat up to read it, anxious and eager.

_Carmel has ur gift + coat. C_

He furrowed his brow and reread the terse, cryptic text again and again. It was hard to tell how Craig felt: did he regret slugging him? Was he embarrassed? Proud? John Paul punched out a response, hoping to mollify Craig somehow.

_Want to play Mars War together soon?_

John Paul rolled his mobile back and forth in his palms, hoping for a reply. After several minutes, he started at the knock at his door.

“Come in?”

Carmel peeked her head in before walking through. “Hiya, John Paul.”

“Alright?” he asked languidly, before returning his gaze to his phone.

“I brought your things,” she said, laying his coat at the foot of his bed and handing him _Mars War 2119_. “Are you alright? Why’d you run off? Didn’t you hear me running after you?”

John Paul shifted his legs so that Carmel could sit on the bed. “Why do you think? My best mate laid me out in the middle of a crowded pub because he thought I was trying it on with his bird. It was well humiliating.”

“And?” Carmel poked his knee.

John Paul shrugged. “And what?”

“Were you?”

“No, of course not.” John Paul brought his palms to his face and rubbed his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that to him. He got the wrong end of the stick, that’s all.”

“Oh, John Paul.” He felt the mattress shift as Carmel turned to face him. “I couldn’t believe it, you know. We were all having a lovely time and he just lost it. That’s not normal, is it? I asked Sarah what she thought his problem was, but she was just as confused as us.”

“It’s not too often that happens,” John Paul said, smirking between his hands.

“Oi!” Carmel slapped his shin. “Don’t take it out on me just because you’ve fallen out with your mate, alright?”

“You’re right.” John Paul dropped his arms to his sides. “I’m sorry, Carm.”

“See, I was thinking on the way back here.” Carmel picked up John Paul’s coat and draped it over her bare shoulders. “I reckon it’s a thing that can happen. As Nana likes to say, blokes have conversations with their fists from time to time.”

“None of your blokes, I hope. Otherwise they’ll have me to answer to.”

Carmel angled her head into the light of the lamp. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’m a little more streetwise than that. I can look after myself, John Paul.”

“Well, so can I.” John Paul heaved himself from the bed, walked to his turntable, and started flipping through the nearby stack of records.

“I hope you’re right. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

John Paul moved the arm over the vinyl and exhaled as a relaxing jazz-funk track filled the room. He turned back to Carmel.

“Did he, um, say anything to you?”

“Who, Craig?”

“Yeah. He gave you my things, didn’t he?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, John Paul. It was right after you’d run out. I went after you, but couldn’t catch up in these shoes. Then, as soon as I walked back in, Craig shoved all of it into my hands and scarpered upstairs. I didn’t have time to get a word in.”

“Oh well.” John Paul looked at the dark screen of his mobile again.

“I tell you what, though, I’ll be making sure he knows just what I think of him the next time we cross paths.”

“No, you won’t.” John Paul put his hands on his hips. “Stay out of it, alright? I’m in enough bother with him as it is without any of you winding him up on top of that.”

“But I thought you said it was all in his head about you and Sarah?”

“It is, sort of. It’s—complicated.”

Carmel picked up the _Mars War 2119_ case and inspected it. “Too complicated for me to understand, I’m guessing?”

“Don’t be soft.” John Paul sagged into his desk chair and swivelled around to face Carmel. “That’s not it, it’s just—private.”

Carmel’s eyebrows perked up. “Private, eh? Go on, you can tell us. My lips are sealed.”

“Yeah, right,” John Paul snorted.

“Let’s see,” Carmel said, tapping her index finger to her chin. “You’ve already told me about him thinking you fancy his girlfriend. So, whatever it is has to be an even bigger secret than that.”

John Paul sighed and looked down at his socks. “You know, ever since we were kids, you’ve always been clever about the most annoying things.”

“I know my brother, that’s all.”

“I see you won’t leave it,” John Paul said, as the outro dwindled into nothing. Carmel shook her head. “Craig is just—he’s incredible. I’ve never had a mate like him.” A bigger, lusher song announced its arrival with a fanfare of drums and electric bass. “And I really like spending time with him.”

“I love this one!” Carmel bounced up, threw John Paul’s coat at his lap, and began swaying to the rhythm.

“Er, I’m kind of in the middle of pouring my heart out here.”

“I’m listening,” Carmel said, then twirled around with her arms outstretched. “He’s a good mate and you love spending time together. I’m not seeing what the problem is.”

“Well, the thing is, ever since he and Sarah got back together last week, I haven’t been seeing him all that much. We used to hang out every day, you know?”

Carmel waved her hand dismissively and rocked her hips back and forth. “That’s totally normal. It’s like that with every couple at the beginning: both of them ignore their friends and spend all their time together, indulging in the hot throes of passion.”

“I don’t really want to think about that, thanks,” John Paul mumbled.

“Eventually, they’ll get bored of each other and start wanting more time with their mates again.”

“So, I’m second-best, then. Cheers for that.”

“It’s horrible, but that’s just the way it is, John Paul. You remember Jennifer, my sixth form BFF? I fell out with her because I was too loved-up with Ryan to call round after her mum had a stroke.”

“Isn’t ‘sixth form BFF’ an oxymoron?”

“You what? I don’t appreciate your digs, alright?”

“That’s not—” John Paul shook his head and reached for his mobile; it was buzzing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

_I’ll think about it. Have u installed it?_

John Paul beamed and darted over to where Carmel had put down _Mars War 2119_.

“What’s this?” Carmel said, dancing behind him as he walked to his computer and turned it on. “Someone’s replaced your mardy face with a delightful smile.”

“No, they haven’t.” John Paul inserted the disc into his optical drive and ghosted his fingers along the keyboard, willing the computer to load faster.

“Oh, Craig, is it?”

“What?” John Paul spun around; Carmel was holding his phone up to her face as she danced.

“See, I told you it’d be alright.”

John Paul jerked his phone out of her hand. “How many times? Hands off my mobile.”

_Installing it now. Are you ok?_

“To be honest, John Paul, you don’t know how lucky you are. With you blokes, it’s so simple and straightforward. Not as complicated as relationships between women.”

“Excuse me,” John Paul said, starting the installation. “We’re not all thick cavemen like the blokes you like to go out with.”

“It was a compliment! You and Craig, you had a misunderstanding and you’re patching it up the same day. If this were me and Jacqui, she’d hold a grudge for weeks.”

_Promise me u won’t try anything with Sarah._

John Paul smiled down at his mobile in the harsh blue light of his monitor. That was one promise he could make with his whole heart.

_I promise. I’ll never go after Sarah. I wouldn’t do that to you._

He hovered over the progress of the installation, then turned around to Carmel. The song was winding down. She fanned herself and smiled.

“So? Have the two of you kissed and made up yet?”

_I believe u. I’ll be on messenger in a few minutes. Mars time!_

John Paul set his mobile down next to his keyboard and grinned back at her. “In a manner of speaking.”

“And he apologised?”

“Not as such.”

“Then it’s not properly sorted,” Carmel said sceptically. “Are you sure I shouldn’t have a word?”

John Paul groaned and looked at the progress bar again. “I already told you to leave it.”

“Ah!” Carmel squealed, as the record player played the first bars of the next track. “I love this one as well!”

John Paul rolled his eyes as she resumed dancing. “Fine, but I’m kicking you out once my game finishes installing. Craig wants to play together.”

“That’s fair.” Carmel bobbed over to him with her arms waving in front of her. “Don’t you remember that you promised me a dance earlier? We never got it because of Craig.”

John Paul shook his head violently. “That promise was a moment of weakness. I don’t dance.”

“I saw you at it just today, at the pub!”

“That was me being forced into it by Sarah.”

“Just one song, John Paul. To make up for the one we didn’t get when Craig punched you.” Carmel tapped at his hands and he reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled forward.

“I guess I can do _one_ song,” he said, placing a hand at her waist, the other on her shoulder.

Carmel giggled and leaned back in his arms. “What kind of DJ doesn’t dance to his own music, anyway?”

“Quite a lot of them, surprisingly.” He moved his feet, then his hands, as Carmel took the lead.

“Like this,” she said, moving them in little half-steps around the bedroom carpet. “Loosen up, John Paul! You’re like a marble statue! We could stick you on that fountain in the park and none would be the wiser!”

He looked up at the ceiling and laughed. “I’m trying my best, alright?”

It was nice, John Paul thought, to end Christmas like this: in his room, his turntable drowning out the outside world, dancing with one of his sisters. For now, at least, the promise of more time with Craig had receded into the background of his mind, from where it imparted warmth and colour to every lesser sensation. He watched their shadows whirl and surge on the walls, looking as effortlessly graceful as his limbs felt hopelessly awkward, and smiled at Carmel.

“Merry Christmas to my little bro,” she said, and kissed his cheek.

“Merry Christmas to my favourite blonde older sister.” They spun apart, then back together; the song’s crescendo drifted into the aether, leaving behind a mellow afterglow. John Paul hugged Carmel to his chest and watched the messenger client on his computer screen with breathless anticipation. As the installation window of _Mars War 2119_ produced a green tick, he realised that his only gift this year had been from Craig. In spite of that, John Paul thought that this was the best Christmas he could remember.


End file.
